


Goodbyes and Hellos

by AniCatya04



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mentions of reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniCatya04/pseuds/AniCatya04
Summary: It's been 200 years after World War 2, and some nations discuss their past and future as they begin to slowly fade from existence.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Goodbyes and Hellos

**Author's Note:**

> I got back into writing again, so this is the first fic I'm posting. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The angst is kinda mild, but I wrote this when I was listening to some songs.
> 
> Edit**: changed title from “ Goodbye For Now And Hello Again Someday” to “Goodbyes and Hellos” (to shorten it)

Nations were not people. They didn’t grow old, they remained the perfect image of a person unmarred by time, and in times of war and famine, they looked withered and lifeless, like a shadow had been cast upon them. They represented the people, and they represented history. They represented the unpredictability of humanity, and the rise and fall of nations and empires. Things were uncertain. They never knew whether the next day they would wake up, or crumble into dust, merely a page in a book and a fact that will be forgotten.

More than 200 years after the World War 2, a mysterious illness had begun to spread amongst the personifications of the nations. One by one, each got sick, and in a few months, had passed away. It didn’t affect humans, nor animals or any other living thing. It seemed that it was the beginning of the end for the nations.

Like all things, it must one day come to an end.

****************************************

“Artie.”

“What now, Alfred?” said Arthur, not bothering to look up from his novel.

“Would you ever want to be human?” Alfred asked out of the blue. He sat comfortably in the other chair, sipping hot chocolate.

“Why are you asking me that all of a sudden,” Arthur looked up from his book, glancing at Alfred in astonishment.

“Well, do you?”

“I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Oh come on! You’d know, you’re like a million years old!”

“Hey! I’m not that old!”

Alfred laughed as Arthur chucked a pillow to his face, glaring half-heartedly. For all his annoying habits, he does enjoy his company quite a lot.

“So, would you?”

“Do you really want to know?” Arthur sighed in annoyance. He knew it was a bad idea to read with Alfred in the room.

“Yes!”

“Well, I suppose I have thought about it. Ever since I was only little lad, “ Arthur replied. He wanted to finish his book, and he did not need a philosophical discussion at this point.

“Do you remember the story I told you when you were younger?”

“You’ve told me tons of stories”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to tell it again.”

“Dude if you wanted to tell a story you could have just said so”

Arthur huffed, but he turned to face Alfred. And so, Arthur began telling Alfred the story of the little girl who patiently waited.  
\--  
There was once a little boy and a little girl who used to play in the meadows where flowers grew. They made flower crowns and played together nearby the stream where the water was as clear as a princess’ mirror, and as blue as the petals of a cornflower.

One day the little boy had to leave the little girl. He promised her he would come back, and that he would bring her the prettiest cornflower in the world.  
He never came back.

Years passed and the little girl grew into a young adult. She often wondered about the little boy. 

“Where was he? How is he? Does he remember me?” she would think to herself. She wondered about him everyday. When she woke in the morning, when she looked out into the crowds, catching a glimpse of a familiar blonde head, or when she walked down the streets and saw cornflowers at the shops. Her heart ached, like a constant dull pain. Bearable, but it was there and she noticed it.

One day, while on her way home, she began to weep.

She wept because she waited and she waited. She waited for something she might never get back.

She saw that the only constant thing was change.

Youth, Adulthood, Death.

Autumn, Winter, Spring, Summer.

These were nothing more to her than a painful reminder of the mechanistic life she would live.

Soon, she’d grow older too, and her memories would not be what they used to. Yet she still waited. Each year that passed, she clung to memories of him like she needed it to breathe. She would write feverishly about him, and she drew him everyday, committing that face to memory. It was pitiful, really.  
People are born and people die everyday. Plants grow and the sun shines and sets.  
The girl saw her sisters and brothers marry, start families. She saw her nieces and nephews as they took their first steps to their wedding and to them starting families too. She saw her parents slowly grow ill and die, and she saw how in the end, those things they worked for meant nothing now.  
When they all had gone, she was still there. Moving forward but never really going forward. She was in the present but her heart was in the past.

And that is the tragedy of the little girl.

***********************************

Italy spent the last of Germany’s days taking him to the countryside. Germany was falling ill, and so were the other nations. One by one, they began to disappear.

Greece had died in Japan’s arms. Italy could remember seeing Japan crumble in despair, weeping uncontrollably and holding Greece close. It was the one of the few times they had ever seen him in such an undignified manner.

Turkey had died, but not before reconciling with Hungary, and having his last conversation with Egypt. The man died with no regrets, or so what Egypt said.

France stayed with Canada for one last time, and soon Canada was gone too. France spent his days drinking in his chateau, looking through their old photographs. He had also adopted Canada’s bear, and Italy thought that it too knew that Canada was gone.

Sweden died with Finland, never leaving his side even into the afterlife.

Denmark kept Norway company, bringing Iceland with him as they all shared a moment for one last time. Norway didn’t want Iceland seeing him like this, but Denmark knew that Norway wasn’t going to be here for long. The Dane found it hard to stay cheerful, and Iceland refused to leave his brother’s side.

Prussia visited Sansoucci one last time, bringing Austria with him. He didn’t die alone like he thought, he died surrounded by loved ones. Austria spent the day after the funeral playing a flute. He played the song he and Prussia composed together when they were younger, and when he had taught him to read music.

Hungary kept him company, telling Austria stories of her and Prussia’s childhood of hunting and fighting, and how she thought she was a boy until Prussia made her realize that she wasn’t.

England’s brothers began to get ill too, and he spent the last of their days with them.

Russia died peacefully, surrounded by sunflowers as China and his sisters kept him company. The Baltics didn’t attend his funeral, but they left sunflowers in his grave every year on Russia’s birthday.

Nations were no longer needed anymore. Maybe this was their reward, they had served their purpose after all. At least that’s what most thought.  
A nation’s life is filled with the acute stinging pain of their citizens. It was filled with hazy memories of a non-existent childhood that was once their life before nationhood.

It would be nice, to return as a human.

Glory.

Fame.

Power.

Money.

They didn’t matter anymore. What joy would one derive from that?

Italy didn’t want any of those. He didn’t need his countless villas or his wealthy bank accounts, or luxury. All he wanted was Germany. Italy wanted a modest life, one where he didn’t have to bear the burden of being so alive for so long that one second for him was years passed for a human.

“It’s beautiful here, Italy,” Germany said, breathing a sigh of relief as they laid down in a picnic blanket, with the clear starry sky as their ceiling.  
“I know, that’s why I took you here! I knew you’d love it!” Italy exclaimed. He grinned at Germany, entwining their fingers together. It was only them in this place, and Italy preferred it this way. It had been his paradise since he was young. He went here to paint after a long day of chores, and sometimes he remembered taking Holy Roman Empire here too.

“Thank you”

“For this? It’s no problem at all!”

“No, just thank you. For everything.”

Italy smiled back at him, a contented and genuine smile. The one he wore when Germany first told him he loved him, and the one he wore when they began speaking again. It had taken Germany years to speak to Italy again. It was only after a long conversation with Prussia, along with Romano breaking into his house demanding an explanation for his brother’s behavior.

Germany realized a lot of things when he spoke with Prussia that day. One of them was that he was hopelessly and foolishly in love with Italy.

“I want you to know, that I loved you before, and I still love you now, and that I will love you in the future, or in the next life, or even in the afterlife.” Italy said with a hint of sadness in his voice. He found it hard to stay hopeful. After all, his Germany was dying next to him.

Germany turned to look at Italy, and embraced him. He was dying, and he knew that, he just couldn’t bear the thought of loss, of losing this little spot on Earth with this person, because for him, it was his heaven. He didn’t need to be stoic or serious, he didn’t need harsh discipline and the loud chatter of ambitious men, all he needed was him. His Feliciano.

“I’ve loved you since the 900s,” Germany whispered to Italy.

“You remember?”

“Yes, but that isn’t me anymore. I have his memories, his body and his land, but I’m not him,” Germany explained. Sometimes he worried that maybe Italy only loved him as Holy Rome, and not as Germany. He remembered when they first met, when he found Italy hiding in a tomato crate and he remembered how Italy looked so hopeful, like he saw someone from his past. It had taken him centuries to remember, but he wasn’t the kind boy he once was, and he wondered if Italy ever knew that.

“You don’t have to be. You’re Germany. You’re my Ludwig. I may have loved him first, but I love you the most.”

They laid in each other’s arms until the morning. They didn’t die as nations, they died as Feliciano and Ludwig.

*******************

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me with the story”

“Well, I think the little girl is like us. She had to lose someone, and she had to spend her whole life having to see people grow, start families and die. The little boy slowly fades from her memories, and she clung desperately to every single memory of him. So the answer to your question is, yes, I would have liked to be human, but not if it’s without you.”

Alfred was stunned into silence, and Arthur sat there, continuing his book.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“What has got you so philosophical today?” Arthur looked up again, tilting his head curiously at the American’s odd questions.

“Nothing really.”

“Something is bothering you Al, so speak.” Arthur replied, focusing all his attention on the American.

Alfred took a deep breath, avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

“I’m scared, alright? Scared of dying, of losing you. I’m terrified at the thought that all these I might never remember. That those moments I’ve spent with you would be forgotten, and I’m scared of leaving you, or you leaving me. I’ve lost you once and I don’t want that to happen again. Maybe I’m just clinging to some false hope that in a way, I could be with you again. I can’t bear that I can’t save you from this.”

Alfred looked away from Arthur. He clenched his fists and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes began to puff up and it was clear to Arthur that he had been trying to hold back his tears.

“Oh Alfred, you can’t always save me. You’ve been my hero, so let me be yours too. I believe that someday, we’re going to live our best life. As humans or as us now. It doesn’t matter. All it matters is that I will meet you again. No matter what.” Arthur placed his book down and gently embraced Alfred, stroking his hair and holding him close. He was scared too but being with Alfred made him realize that he didn’t need to be scared if they had each other.  
They looked at each other, eyes puffy and red and their faces streaked with tears. Both men were sobbing in each other’s arms, but one thing was certain and it was that they gazed at each other tenderly, filled with love and like the awe of a golden sunrise, and the peacefulness of a vivid sunset that reflected off a crystal clear lake.

****************************

I will meet you again, I promise.

And when I do, I’ll give you a smile.

It’ll mean a thousand words, and most importantly, it means I love you.

********************************

**Author's Note:**

> I initially planned to put a snippet of their reincarnated lives in the end, but I leave it up to you to decide what it might have been.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> Edit**: My tumblr is theydy-ofthe-starlight, and I try to post and reblog content from all the different fandoms I participate in


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